


Subservience

by draculard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bed-Wetting, Child Abuse, Dom/sub Undertones, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Extreme Underage, Father/Son Incest, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Servant, Mild Piss Drinking, Nightmares, Past childhood sexual abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, sexual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Dobby has served the Malfoy family since Lucius was a child. He knows everything that goes on behind these closed doors - maybe, just maybe, he can do something to help.





	Subservience

Lucius was six years old when Abraxas brought home a House Elf. It stood two feet tall, almost as tall as Lucius himself, with bulbous green eyes and ears bigger than Lucius’s hands. Right from the start, Lucius was unnerved by it — its inhuman proportions, its strange, quick gestures, its unnatural subservience.

No one had ever treated Lucius like a master before. It frightened him; he backed away from the Elf, determined that he would never speak to it, never even look at it unless he had to. His father’s hand on his shoulder was squeezing him too tight, preventing him from running away.

“Dobby is to be _your_ House Elf, Lucius,” Abraxas said, his voice firm and cold. “You will no longer come to me for your everyday needs. Dobby will cook your meals for you and you will eat in the kitchen, not in the banquet hall. Do you understand?”

Lucius stared at Dobby, his lips drawn in a tight line. “Yes, Father.”

Abraxas’s grip on his shoulder loosened a little, and Lucius felt his heart lighten. Soon, Father would dismiss him, and Lucius would hurry outside, away from the House Elf, away from the dark halls of Malfoy Manor.

But then Abraxas bent down, his lips close to Lucius’s ear. “You will still complete your nightly duties,” he whispered.

Lucius’s wide eyes were trained on Dobby, who stared back at him with open, guileless curiosity.

“Yes, Father,” Lucius said again, feeling numb. Abraxas straightened up, finally releasing him, and Lucius stood there stiffly, waiting until his father had left the room. When he heard the door close behind him, he glanced at Dobby one last time and found the House Elf still staring at him, almost like it was waiting for something.

Lucius started to turn, then hesitated. He looked over his shoulder at Dobby.

“What is it?” he asked finally, hesitantly. The Elf bowed low, its floppy ears brushing against the floor.

“Dobby is awaiting Master’s orders,” it said. Its voice was high and squeaky, nothing like the frightening growl Lucius had imagined. Still, it set him on edge. He backed away, unsure what he could say to it to make it leave him alone. When the Elf just stared at him, Lucius’s nerves took over and he hurried away down the hall.

He didn’t look back.

* * *

Lucius’s hair was longer than other boys’ for as long as he could remember. It was fine and white as thistledown. He could remember the way Abraxas’s fingers twisted in it, tangling his hair and making his scalp burn. He could remember Abraxas using it to jerk Lucius’s head up, to hold him in place, to force him to do whatever he didn’t want to do.

“I like it long,” Abraxas said.

So Lucius never cut it. He never did anything Abraxas disapproved of. It was difficult to care for his hair by himself, but he didn’t dare ask for help, not even from the House Elf. He learned quickly how to wash and comb it, how to arrange it so not a hair was out of place.

* * *

The House Elf had been with their family for only a week when he popped into Lucius’s bedroom one night, when Lucius was already half-asleep. He sat bolt-upright at the sound of Apparition, eyes going wide, heart thudding as he saw the grotesque creature at the foot of his bed. There was something draped over its arm, and for a moment Lucius was sure it must be some kind of weapon, or a rope, or --

But it was only clothes. An extra pair of pajamas in Lucius’s size, neatly pressed and folded.

“For tonight,” said Dobby, placing the clothes across the top of Lucius’s dresser. “In case Master Lucius needs them.”

Lucius’s throat was dry. He thought of all the times Abraxas had crept into his room at night to place his dry, hot palm over Lucius’s mouth -- to hold him still, to stifle any noise. He thought of his father’s hand sneaking under the waistband of his trousers, touching Lucius in places so sensitive that Abraxas’s rough fingers made him wince. He thought of all the times he’d been left alone afterward, sweating and shivering all at once, with a tight, burning sensation between his legs, with blood and cum on his pajamas.

“Thank you,” Lucius said. He couldn’t force himself to look at the House Elf, couldn’t even force himself to look at the pajamas. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dobby bow before disappearing.

A moment later, he heard his father’s footsteps in the hall and found he couldn’t stop shaking.

* * *

As an adult, Lucius is well enough accomplished at Occlumency that he can wall up his own worst memories before he goes to sleep, that he can spend all day without sparing a single, solitary thought for Abraxas, for the long, terrible nights at his father’s hands. Narcissa and Draco have no inkling -- would never guess -- what Lucius went through as a child.

But Dobby knows, and though he knows the House Elf would never tell, it still sets Lucius’s teeth on edge every time he sees him. It takes every ounce of his control not to snap; he can barely choke back his own revulsion at the sight of Dobby’s ugly, knobby limbs, his wide and watery eyes.

There is nothing more unnerving to human aesthetics, Lucius thinks, than a House Elf.

Yet no matter how much he lashes out at Dobby, he doesn’t feel better. No matter how many bandages the House Elf swathes himself in, Lucius still feels hollow and numb, with an entire childhood of memories locked behind closed doors in the dark recesses of his mind. He watches Dobby punish himself for a mistake and feels nausea clawing its way through his chest and up his throat.

He walks away. He tries to think of anything more repulsive than a House Elf, and a memory rises unbidden, slipping through the cracks of the cage where Lucius keeps everything that happened before he went to Hogwarts as a boy.

A memory of broad, dry hands holding him down, hurting him, spreading him apart. The smell of illegal dragontooth brandy on Abraxas’s lips, seeping down Lucius’s throat like smoke. A tightness in his chest, stealing his breath away -- a mumbled curse to keep him immobile, pliant, willing.

And the whole time, afterward, there was Dobby. If he wasn’t there in person (running long fingers over Lucius’s wounds to heal them, staring at him with those enormous, pitiful eyes) then he was there in spirit, in the extra set of pajamas left behind, clean and pressed and charmed with warmth, or the vial of Dreamless Sleep which appeared sometimes on Lucius’s nightstand, dosed properly for a child.

Dobby saw everything, but he could do nothing to help, in the end. For all he called Lucius “master,” his true master was Abraxas, from the moment he came into this house to the moment Abraxas died -- and by then, what could he do?

* * *

The trouble with Occluding, of course, was that no one could do it forever. Lucius was a better Occlumens than most; he could wipe out his own thoughts, his own memories, for weeks at a time, something few people could do for even a moment.

But it always came back to him in the end.

He was all alone in the Manor that night, with Draco away at his first year of Hogwarts and Narcissa visiting family in France. As he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, he caught a glimpse -- out of the corner of his eye -- of the hallway he’d inhabited on his own as a child, of the heavy oak door he’d slept behind for years. There came a prickling at the back of his mind, a burning sensation as all his worst memories struggled to get out.

He did what he did best: he pushed them away. He pushed away all thoughts of that bedroom, of his childhood, of his father, and he climbed the stairs into his adult life. To the bed he shared with Narcissa, in a wing of Malfoy Manor unblemished by memories of Abraxas.

That night, Lucius went to sleep believing his Occlusion would hold.

* * *

It was his least favorite dream, because not a single moment of it stemmed from his imagination. Every detail -- every sensation, every echoing sound -- blossomed from that dark cave in his mind where he kept Abraxas and his rough, unyielding hands locked up. There was nothing here he hadn’t felt before, nothing he hadn’t suffered through when he was a boy.

That should have made it bearable -- to know he’d already been through this, that he’d survived, that he was fine.

It didn’t.

Lucius fell asleep and immediately he was back in his childhood bed, gripping the blankets tight with his tiny hands, shivering under the covers. He watched the door, eyes wide and burning, unable even to blink. He was so small in these dreams -- so thin and weak and frail he couldn’t stand it. So weak he knew he wouldn’t be able to defend himself when Abraxas came.

And there was no denying that Abraxas would come -- Lucius’s breath came fast, whistling past his lips in a panicked wheeze. He could see a shadow crossing the bedroom door -- someone standing outside, utterly silent, listening to him breathe.

Slowly, the door creaked open. He saw a flash of wood, his father’s wand, and heard the muttered curse that turned Lucius’s brain to cotton, made his limbs limp and obedient.

 _Imperio_ , Abraxas said. He approached the bed, fully dressed in his day clothes, and sat atop the blankets near Lucius’s feet. His eyes, pale and cool, surveyed his son like he was a specimen to be dissected.

 _What shall we do today, Lucius?_ Abraxas said. His voice echoed in Lucius’s head, growing louder with each reverberation. Lucius could not answer; he couldn’t even assemble his thoughts to form a reply. He was still shaking, but it was subdued now -- a barely noticeable tremor that just wouldn’t go away.

He saw Abraxas’s long, rough fingers stealing over his blanket, felt the light touch as they skimmed over his chest. Abraxas peeled the blanket away, leaving Lucius exposed on the bed, limp and trembling in his pajamas. He didn’t move as Abraxas’s hand ventured lower, cupping Lucius through his pants.

 _Keep your eyes open,_ Abraxas said, so Lucius did, though they were burning still and he wanted nothing more than to close them. He wished he could squeeze them shut and live in the darkness, follow the little sparks of light and color invented by his brain and ignore everything that was happening, every touch, every sound, every smell.

Abraxas hooked his fingers in Lucius’s waistband, sliding the pajama bottoms down to his knees. His muscles felt like jelly; he could feel his bladder draining, soaking the sheets with urine so hot it felt like it was burning him wherever it touched his skin, but he could do nothing to stop it. Not without an order from Abraxas -- and Abraxas would do nothing but watch him, an amused smile playing ‘round his lips.

 _Let’s get started,_ Abraxas said.

* * *

Lucius came awake gradually, disturbed by a faint noise that invaded his dream -- a hoarse, rasping sound, too strained to be a shout. It grew louder and louder, driving away the memory of Abraxas, blotting out every other sound. Lucius’s heart pounded as the noise came closer, panic spiking through him.

And then he opened his eyes and realized the rasping was nothing but his own weak attempt at a scream. His breath came shallowly and quickly; his nightclothes were cold and wet, and when he realized this wasn’t from sweat, his face flushed hot and red.

 _Merlin’s beard,_ Lucius thought. He ran shaking fingers over his face, for once glad that Narcissa wasn’t here to comfort him. His heart was still racing, moreso from the physical evidence of his panic than from the dream.

Eventually, he sat up, still trembling, and swung his legs over the bed, taking in his surroundings in a vain attempt to call in. He was in the master bedroom -- his and Narcissa’s bedroom -- and he was an adult now, and Abraxas was dead. He was safe.

He closed his eyes, calmed his breathing.

When he opened them, Dobby was in his room.

“Dobby heard Master Lucius screaming,” said Dobby. He hovered near the doorway, cautious and unsure.

“I wasn’t screaming,” Lucius said. His voice still sounded hoarse. He arranged the blankets over his legs, hoping the room was dim enough that Dobby couldn’t see.

“Bad dreams?” Dobby asked. He took a tentative step forward; Lucius’s heart sunk. Normally, he felt a spark of revulsion each time he saw Dobby, but tonight he was too weary to feel anything but a tired, muted dread.

Dobby crept closer, his small feet padding across the floor. When he reached the bed, he hopped up onto it, pressing one large, knobby-knuckled hand against Lucius’s forehead. Lucius barely suppressed a flinch.

“Master Abraxas again,” said Dobby, sounding horribly knowing and even more horribly sympathetic. Lucius felt his cheeks burning; he couldn’t meet Dobby’s eyes. After a moment, Dobby pulled his hand away and felt the wet spot on the sheets, making a pitying noise in the back of his throat.

“Dobby will clean you up,” he said. Lucius didn’t acknowledge this; he wondered if he could Occlude his entire existence -- compartmentalize every part of himself until he was entirely locked away, until he could feel nothing and be nothing. He closed his eyes, imagined that he was blind and deaf and mute, that his arms and legs were gone, that his nerve endings were so burnt out that nothing got through.

It didn’t work. He felt Dobby kneeling between his legs, running his hands over Lucius’s wet clothes. A warm sensation spread over the silky material, and when it faded, Lucius realized his nightshirt was clean and dry. Dobby’s fingers glowed as he worked; a fragrant scent overtook the room, washing away the smell of Lucius’s fear.

And then Dobby lifted the hem of Lucius’s nightshirt and, before Lucius even realized what was going on, pressed his lips to Lucius’s bare skin.

“Dobby will make Master Lucius feel loved again,” Dobby said. Lucius’s breath caught in his throat as Dobby’s tongue flicked out, warm and soothing. It left a strange tingling sensation as he licked his way across Lucius’s thighs, removing the stain of urine on his skin. He could feel Dobby’s hot breath against his cock, could feel himself twitching in response.

“Dobby,” Lucius breathed. “What…?”

Dobb’y lips closed over Lucius’s cock, sucking gently, coaxing Lucius until he was fully erect. It was so unlike anything Lucius has ever experienced with Abraxas -- Dobby was smaller than him, subservient, gentle and soft. His hands rested, one on Lucius’s thigh and one on his waist, his touch so light that Lucius barely felt it. He remembered how rough Abraxas had always been, pain following everywhere his fingers went, and the contrast with Dobby sent a spark of unexpected arousal straight up Lucius’s spine.

The House Elf’s mouth was hot and wet around him, more welcoming than anything Lucius had ever felt. He rocked his hips unconsciously, found himself thrusting into Dobby’s mouth before he even thought about it. The Elf took it without complaining, opening his throat to Lucius’s cock, swallowing him down so sweetly.

The whole time, his fingers trailed across Lucius’s skin, leaving glowing trails of inexplicable House Elf magic. It felt like Dobby’s tender hands could reach right to Lucius’s bones, could heal wounds Lucius didn’t even know he had.

“That’s good, Dobby,” Lucius said, his voice a shaky whisper. “It’s … it’s good.”

He hadn’t realized he could enjoy something like this. Dobby’s eyes opened, wide and green and fixed on Lucius in pure adoration. He would do anything for his master, Lucius realized. He wanted nothing more than Lucius’s comfort, Lucius’s pleasure, Lucius’s safety. And now that Abraxas was dead, he could provide just that.

How had he never noticed how beautiful those eyes were? Lucius wondered. He reached out, fingers snagging on the dirty old pillowcase Dobby always wore, stolen years before from Lucius’s childhood bedroom. At the same time, he shrank away from Dobby, keeping the House Elf in place while Lucius pulled his cock out. It bobbed between them, flushed pink and wet with Dobby’s saliva.

He pulled Dobby up into bed with him. Dobby’s hands rested on his shoulders; his feet came to rest on either side of Lucius’s hips. They were face to face in a way they hadn’t been since Lucius was six years old.

“Kiss me,” Lucius said.

“Yes, Master,” Dobby said.

His lips were soft and salty, tasting like Lucius’s arousal. He opened his mouth to Lucius, allowed his tongue inside to explore Dobby’s mouth. It was an odd mouth, wider than any human’s, with a broad tongue and small, flat teeth.

When they pulled away from each other, Lucius looked into Dobby’s eyes and found that he didn’t feel any revulsion at all.


End file.
